


If I could conjure worth a damn (I wouldn't have friends like these)

by lyra_wing



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyra_wing/pseuds/lyra_wing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are at Hogwarts. Tony's building non-regulation broomsticks, Steve's dealing with a mysterious Time Turner accident, Loki's sneering at the Muggles, Thor's wielding a Beater's bat, Darcy's commentating at Quidditch matches, Fury's teaching DADA, everyone loves a drink at the Three Broomsticks, and Bruce has a secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As it is likely that there will be endless debates on the Sorting of these characters, I just want to disclaim that this is just how I see it – I'm sure everyone has their own interpretations. I spent the better part of a morning trying to figure out where Tony would be Sorted – arguably, he'd fit into multiple Houses very well. And hopefully this passes the HP test – this universe is not my forte! Enjoy.

"I'm bored," Tony announced, loud enough for Bruce to hear him but not so loud that Professor Fury would.

Bruce waved his left hand at him, a signal to be quiet. His right hand was busy taking notes, quill scritching on the desk between them. "You're always bored."

This was true. The plague of being an unqualified genius is that you quickly got bored. Granted, his school was probably the least boring school in existence, and Tony was nothing if not good at finding ways to entertain himself. Nonetheless, there were only so many times you could transfigure Professor Fury's desk into a hippo before you began to wonder what the point of it all was.

On Tony's other side, Thor was nodding seriously along with Fury's latest rant about the importance of conviction in casting defensive spells. You wouldn't guess it, looking at him, but Thor was a good student. It was all that good-natured earnestness. All the professors loved him. And he was always up for a good time, so he was one of the few Gryffindors with whom Tony could carry a conversation without feeling like smashing his head against the nearest flat surface.

"Hey," said Tony out of the side of his mouth to Thor, idea forming already, "you distract Fury, and I'll--"

"STARK." Fury stopped mid-sentence and Tony froze.

"He-ey, Professor. What's happening?" Tony turned on a winning smile.

"Talking out of turn, five points from Ravenclaw." Fury turned back to his lecture on shield charms.

Around him, half of the classroom erupted in groans, with some muttering, "Way to go, Stark." 

Tony shrugged. He really didn't give a hoot about winning the House Cup – it was a giant cup, who really cared who won? - so the threat of losing points wasn't much of an incentive for him to stay in line. Much to the dismay of everyone in Ravenclaw.

Having mastered the first half of the sixth years' Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook already, Tony zoned out of the lecture. He propped his chin in hand, leaning on his elbow, and daydreamed about his next broomstick prototype. He wanted to add rocket thrusters to this model, maybe.

A quiet cough from the doorway interrupted Fury once again.

Fury whirled around, black cloak swirling and good eye narrowed, and barked, "What is it _now_?"

"Um." The guy in the doorway, wearing Gryffindor robes, looked confused. "I'm... in this class? Steve Rogers? Sorry I'm late, but I just got my schedule from the Headmaster."

Tony sat up, intrigued.

He wasn't alone; most of the class broke out in murmurs of interest. Students didn't join Hogwarts as sixth years, it just wasn't done. And none of them had ever seen this Steve Rogers before. That alone made him interesting. Not to mention he was good-looking enough that Tony was half-tempted to poke at him with a wand and see if the guy hadn't cast a Glamour on himself or something. 

Professor Fury schooled his face into a less-menacing expression. "Right." He gestured to the empty seat next to Thor. "Rogers, take a seat next to Odinson. We're on _Protego_ charms now, chapter five of your text."

Tony leaned across the aisle, looking around Thor to his other side. "Hey, I'm Tony."

Steve looked surprised for a second that Tony was even talking to him, but then he broke out in a reserved, half-embarrassed smile, ducking his head a little. "Hey."

"Oh god," muttered Jane Foster, from the desk behind Tony and Bruce.

"You, shut up," said Tony. Bruce was laughing a little, trying to hide it by pretending to cough. Tony elbowed him in the side. "You too."

Well, at least school just got more interesting.

 

***

 

"So the word going around is he had some freak accident with a Time Turner," said Clint, taking a bite of a pumpkin pasty. Clint had an uncannily good ability to keep track of everything going on in the school.

"What do you mean, 'accident?'" Tony blinked. "And when the hell did you even get here?" Two seconds ago, it was just him and Bruce, eating lunch on the courtyard benches. Now Clint had appeared on Bruce's other side.

Clint wiggled his fingers at Tony absently, preoccupied with examining his pasty for the next corner to bite. "Magic," he said, cocking an eyebrow.

Tony snorted, trying to pretend he wasn't amused. He turned back to his broomstick prototype, which sat in nearly-assembled form in his lap. "So, what was the accident?"

"No one knows the details. Nat was saying that Loki was saying that some _other_ kid was saying he's really from 1940s. World War II. Something happened and he got ejected into the future."

Bruce, who had finally looked up from editing his extra-credit Arithmancy essay (Bruce had actually asked Professor Vector for _more_ homework, something that boggled Tony's mind), gestured at the broomstick. "Are those kinds of modifications even legal on the Quidditch pitch, Tony?"

"Of course not." Tony grinned. "But that doesn't stop me from making them."

Tony just liked... _tinkering_. There was no other word for it. Charms and Transfiguration were his best classes. But while building things through spellcasting was great and all, sometimes he liked to do things the Muggle way. Something was innately satisfying about using his hands. 

The Starks were an old and incredibly rich wizarding family from way back, but the other pureblooded families have basically hated them ever since Howard Stark went off and married a Muggle and built an empire making Muggle inventions. If nothing else, Tony was sort of proud of his father for doing that, rebelling against centuries of tradition.

"What _is_ that?" Natasha appeared at Tony's elbow, startling him so much he nearly toppled off his spot on the bench.

"Merlin! You and Clint need to wear bells or something." Tony straightened himself, surly. He waved the tool in front of her face. "It's a wrench, if you must know."

It was then that Loki and Thor showed up. Loki's mouth twisted disdainfully at the work in Tony's lap. "A Muggle tool."

"Why do we even talk to you again?" said Tony, looking up at Loki with feigned confusion.

Loki scowled, taking a step forward, but Thor took him by the shoulders and held him back. "Peace, brother," said Thor, because he and Loki talked like that. No one was sure why. Probably because they were raised in some kind of mythical Nordic kingdom.

"Alright. Just watch this, kids." Tony made the final adjustment on his broomstick, and leaned back a little.

The broomstick in his lap lifted up, hovering in the air for a second, before it gave a rumble much like a motorcycle and shot off into the air, leaving a trail of white-blue energy streaking behind it. It swirled around and looped crazily, drawing the attention of all the students in the courtyard.

It also apparently caught the attention of Steve Rogers, who approached the group just as the broomstick sputtered to a landing in the grass in front of Tony.

"Um, hey," Steve said. The whole group stopped talking to stare at him. He continued, hesitatingly, "Uh, sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to talk to Thor."

"Oh, really?" Loki arched an eyebrow.

"Please excuse my brother," reassured Thor, stepping forward and offering Steve his hand to shake. "How can I be of service, Steve Rogers?"

"McGonagall told me you're captain of the Gryffindor team. I know the term's already started and I think she said you had tryouts last week, but I was a pretty good Keeper back when I used to play. I'd like to try out for the Quidditch team if you'll let me."

If Thor smiled any wider, his face would split in half. "Of course, Steve Rogers. Everyone should have an opportunity to test their skill." He slung an arm around Steve's shoulders, as if they were old friends. "And I have a feeling you shall be an excellent Keeper for our team."

"Their current Keeper is a scrawny third year," Clint confided.

"Great. Now I need to recalculate all my odds." Natasha ran an elaborate gambling ring around the school's Quidditch matches.

"So you made that broomstick yourself?" It took Tony a second to realize Steve was addressing him.

"Yep. Kinda my thing. Making stuff. I also made some excellent quick-draw wands last year, which have unfortunately been banned from school." Tony blinked up at the strange guy standing in front of him, whose hair caught the rays of the rare Scottish sunshine in a really attractive way. "So when you said, 'used to play,' you really mean you used to play _here_ , didn't you? At Hogwarts."

"Um. Yes, but that was in 1942," said Steve, looking sort of sheepish. "There was, well… it's complicated. But I guess you guys heard already."

Clint shrugged. "News spreads fast."

"You do half of the spreading," muttered Natasha in an undertone.

"Eh, don't worry about it. You'll be old news by the time the next scandal rolls around. Chocolate frog?" Tony held out an open packet, offering.

"Wow. They still make these things," Steve said, taking the candy and examining the package, amused and pleased. "Thanks, Tony."

"Don't mention it." Tony glared at the mix of expressions on his friends' faces, ranging from inquisitive to mocking. "Not a word, anybody. Just shut your holes."

"About what?" Steve asked, mouth full of chocolate.

 

***

 

"This is totally presumptuous of me. Totally."

"When has that stopped you before?" Pepper was pulling out and repotting Dizzying Daisies. She was doing extra credit work for Professor Sprout – who knew why, no one really cared about _Herbology_ during sixth year, but Pepper insisted she enjoyed the work, found it to be peaceful.

"Don't you know I hate… green things? And dirt? And manure?" Tony wrinkled his nose as he made his way through the greenhouse, edging his way around a Punching Petunia. Give him a laboratory or a workshop any day.

"That's why I spend so much time in here," said Pepper with a smile. She was up to her elbows in potting soil, but she was as beautiful as always, and Tony was sort of sad that they never worked out after their stint of dating during their fourth year.

Tony sat down on the cleanest part of a nearby workbench. "I barely know him."

"As I recall, that didn't stop you from sending me half of the stock of Honeydukes on Valentine's Day. Everyone was swimming through the Hufflepuff common room for weeks. And we had never even said hello before then." Pepper patted Tony's cheek with a dirty hand, and Tony batted it away. "Being presumptuous is part of your unique charm."

"So you admit I'm charming."

"I didn't say that." Pepper nodded out towards the lake. "And I think the object of your affection is walking by the Black Lake right now, so if you're lucky you can catch—"

Tony pressed a kiss on her cheek. "You're a peach," he said, and darted out of the greenhouse.

"Steve!" Tony slowed himself to a reasonably paced, non-eager walk. The air was brisk, getting chillier with the onset of deep autumn. He caught up to Steve, breath puffing out in faint white clouds from his lips. "Steve, uh. Hey."

"Tony!" Steve was grinning triumphantly. "I made the team."

"Yeah, Clint already told me."

"But I only just—" Steve gestured back at the direction of the Quidditch pitch, perplexed. "I mean, _just_ —"

"News goes pretty fast around here." Tony paused. "Faster than the speed of light, sometimes."

"I was going back up to the Great Hall for supper if you want to come." Steve shoved his hands deep in his pockets. His nose was going pink from the growing cold.

Tony stared at him, blinking, train of thought derailed. "Uh, what?"

"You know, food?" Steve was smiling.

"Um. Right. Sure. But," Tony barreled ahead, because there was a point to chasing Steve down right now, "So, you probably don't know this, because of your being-trapped-in-time thing, but I own a company. Okay, a lot of companies. And those companies own companies. Some might say my family causes an antitrust problem, but." Tony stopped himself from rambling more. "Point being, one of these companies makes broomsticks."

Tony produced what looked like a tiny toy broomstick from the pocket of his coat, letting it lie in the palm of his hand. He muttered, " _Engorgio_ ," and it exploded into a normal-sized broomstick. It had a shining red handle and thick bristles the color of gold. He held it out to Steve.

"Meet the Starkbolt, Mach 3. And this one actually passes the Quidditch League Regulations, unlike the broomstick I was working on earlier."

"I… geez. Tony. This is for me?" Steve took the broomstick in hand, feeling the weight and heft of it.

"I figured since you made the team, you might need a broomstick that can keep up with the big boys out there." Tony hastened to add, "It's not like it's a big deal. I have boxes and boxes of these things at Stark Labs. Although they don't go on sale until next month."

"Thanks. Thank you." Steve was looking at him, beaming, and for a second, everything was pretty awesome, but then Steve started laughing a little, trying to politely hide the fact by doing it into his fist.

Tony frowned. "What's so funny?"

"You have, um… dirt, right here." Steve sobered up. He touched Tony on his cheek, cupping his jaw and sweeping a broad thumb down his face. "Here."

Tony abruptly stopped breathing, so it was fairly difficult to get the next words out of his mouth. "It was there this whole time, and you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't want to interrupt you," Steve said, soft. He dropped his hand. "There. All better."

"I mean, feel free to keep going—"

"Friends!" Of course, _of course_ , that was when Thor decided to come charging down the hill, followed by an entire contingent of their friends – Jane, Clint, Natasha, and Loki. "Let us depart for supper and celebrate the new addition to the Gryffindor team."

Steve took a step back from Tony, straightening his robes in embarrassment, and Tony sighed at the terrible horrible tragedy of it all.

Jane caught up to Thor, breathless, throwing an apologetic look in Tony's direction. "Sorry, I told him to give you a minute, but he took that as a literal minute and then he dashed off—"

"Why would we celebrate anything related to Gryffindor, anyway?" Natasha cocked an eyebrow, and Loki added with a nod, "What she said."

Thor looked truly wounded at this comment.

Natasha sighed. "I didn't mean it, Thor, of course."

For some strange reason, Clint was ducking behind the bulk of Thor and Steve's combined frames.

"Um, Clint? What are you doing?" Tony had to ask.

"Hiding from Phil."

"You usually hide better than that." Natasha looked distinctly unimpressed. But she always looked that way, so Tony guessed she wasn't any more unimpressed than usual.

"I don't know what it is, but he's got a weird knack for finding me whenever I'm—"

"BARTON." Phil came striding towards their group, black and yellow robes flapping behind him in the autumn wind.

"Crap." Clint straightened up. "Hey, Phil! My, don't you look handsome this evening, and your prefect badge is looking particularly shiny today."

"You've got detention with Fury." Clint let out a squawk as Phil grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him back towards the castle. "C'mon. Bad enough you got detention, but you're already late for it."

Clint stretched imploring hands back at them. "Save me!"

 

***

 

It was a terrible day for Quidditch.

It was sleeting horribly and the wind was blowing sideways. Nonetheless, as always, the game was still on and the entire school was out in the stands. It was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff today, and while that might be thrilling for those respective Houses, Tony had no clear idea why his House or Slytherin gave a damn.

Well, alright, so it was Steve's first game as Gryffindor's Keeper, but that had nothing to do with why Tony was watching in this horrible weather.

Right.

"I hate Quidditch." Tony had transfigured his umbrella to be larger and nigh impermeable, and had cast a Levitation Charm on it so it stayed upright without any effort on his part, but it didn't help much when the icy rain was coming at him horizontally

He burrowed into Bruce's side for warmth, which Bruce tolerated with a sigh.

Bruce was reading a book, which was growing sodden in his hand under the torrential onslaught, and which made no sense because if Bruce was going to ignore the game, he could totally be doing that indoors in the warmth of Ravenclaw Tower.

"You _play_ Quidditch. You spend half your time making crazy broomsticks." Jane jumped up and down in place, rubbing her hands together briskly, trying to keep warm. Tony looped an arm around her neck and pulled her into his other side, under the umbrella's cover. She protested, but was laughing while she did it.

"Whatever. Just glad it's not us out there." Tony and Jane were two of the Ravenclaw Chasers.

"Should be interesting, at any rate. Darcy's commentating this game."

"Really. That should be pricel—"

Just then, Darcy's voice exploded throughout the Quidditch pitch and the stands. "Hello all, it's a pretty sucky day out here on the Hogwarts pitch. Luckily you have my lovely voice to serenade you through the wind and the rain, like a siren luring you to your—well, never mind. Madam Hooch is up and out and the balls have been released—hah, that's kind of a hilarious expression if you think about—"

"Darcy!" Professor McGonagall interjected, scandalized.

"Sorry, Professor. Anyway, the Quaffle's up and Jason McCleary's got it, and he's dodging and weaving, weaving and dodging, almost there, and _oh_ – totally blocked by the new Keeper for Gryffindor, Steve Rogers. Sorry, Jason. And I have to say it, I don't care that I'm a diehard Hufflepuff, that is one beautiful Keeper, ladies, am I right? Gentlemen, too, if that's your preference. I mean, just look at his—"

"Darcy!"

"Broomstick! What a lovely broomstick! Gosh, what'd you think I was going to say, Professor? Designed by one Tony Stark, Ravenclaw Chaser and the current record-holder for number of detentions issued in one year. Pretty nice gift, if I do say so myself, wonder if there's anything going on there, because we all know our Tony—"

"Oh my god, I'm going to cast a Silencing Charm on her from over here," muttered Tony, palming his face with one hand, mortified. "I swear I'm gonna do it."

Bruce snorted a laugh into his book, and Tony punched him halfheartedly.

"The Snitch is long gone, I have no idea where it is right now, and it looks like both of the Seekers can't figure it out either. Oh, but wait, looks like Clint Barton's spotted something with his hawk-like gaze, and he's shooting across the pitch, but the Gryffindor team is catching on and Thor has sent a Bludger his way, but Clint dodges easily, GO CLINT—"

Tony couldn't help but laugh and applaud with the rest of the crowd when Clint did a beautifully complicated flip, letting his broom go for a second, body flying in the air, before landing back on it, triumphant, Snitch fluttering in his fist.

As the roar of the crowd died down, Jane knocked into Tony's side. "You totally love Quidditch."

Tony sighed, resigned. "I totally love Quidditch."

 

***

 

They were sitting at the Ravenclaw tables for supper. The Great Hall was noisier than usual, probably because the next Hogsmeade visit was just announced.

Darcy was one of the later folks to arrive. She reached over Tony's shoulder to pluck a bread roll out of the basket in the middle of the table and sat down at Tony's side. He shot her a glare.

"What?" Darcy turned dark, liquid eyes full of feigned innocence at him.

"You _know_ what, Ms. Announcer," hissed Tony, turning his head to Darcy and speaking low enough that Steve, sitting on his other side, couldn't hear.

"I don't know what you mean." Darcy poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Fine. Good luck getting your Transfiguration homework done without my help." Tony knew this was Darcy's real weak spot, because Jane was brilliant at Charms and Potions and almost every other possible subject, but she was strangely bad at transfiguring anything bigger than a teacup.

"Sorry! Oh, I am so sorry, Tony. It'll never happen again. Please forgive me? Here, I'll even let you get to second base."

Tony turned, intrigued. "Well…" Pepper, who was sitting across from him, reached over the table and bopped him on the head with her Potions textbook. "Ow! Fine, forgiven."

Steve watched this exchange with a mix of confusion and amusement. "You know, this is nice. This would've never happened back in my day."

"What do you mean?" Tony was working on charm casting without talking, and he was pleased when Darcy's glass shrank to the size of a thimble, making her yelp and hit him in the shoulder.

"All of you guys, being friends, sitting together even though you're in different Houses." Steve gestured at the group that they had assembled. "This would have never happened when I was in school. All the Houses basically hated each other."

Clint shrugged. "It all developed pretty organically. People have gotten used to it by now."

"I actually still don't know why I hang out with you people," Tony joked.

"Oh. Shoot. I forgot, I promised to take Bruce—" Jane stopped mid-sentence, catching Steve's eye. "I mean. Er. Nothing. I promised to take him nothing."

But it was too late. "What about Bruce?" Steve asked.

"Nothing. He's just a little under the weather. Jane's going to go back to Ravenclaw Tower to take him some medicine, right?" Tony made frantic shooing motions at Jane behind Steve's back.

Steve, because he was probably a Boy Scout or something, began to stand. "Does he need to go to Madam Pomfrey? I can help—"

"No!" The collected group of people around him shouted in unison.

Steve froze. "Uh, okay?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Don't even bother to ask, Rogers. Not worth your time."

"No big deal, Steve." Tony patted his elbow reassuringly. "Bruce'll be fine. Nothing you need to worry about." Steve nodded, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief when Steve bought the lie.


	2. Chapter 2

"By the way, your owls have been coming after me because you haven't been opening any of your Stark Industries mail. If you don't fix that, I'll put a Hurling Hex on all your broomsticks." Pepper jiggled her arm, where she and Tony were linked by the elbows. "Hey, are you even listening to me?"

"What?" Tony stopped looking around and blinked. "Right, owls, Hurling Hexes, gotcha."

They were walking arm-in-arm through Hogsmeade's High Street. Despite the cheery afternoon sun, the air was frigid with the onset of winter. Christmas holidays were less than a month away. Tony wasn't really dressed for it, in jeans and a sweater. Pepper was already wearing a wool coat. 

Pepper threw him a knowing look. "On the lookout for someone in particular?"

"What? No. I mean. I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Wait." Pepper tugged on Tony to force him to come to a halt. "You hear that?"

Now that Pepper pointed it out, Tony did hear a bunch of young voices, one of which was shouting, "Stop it! Leave him alone!" The sounds were coming from the alley that led to The Hog's Head. Tony glanced at Pepper and they both broke into a run, heading towards the noise.

They skidded to a stop in the alley, and found a bunch of third years gathered – one of which was suspended in the air upside down and one of which was sprawled against the wall of the alley, bruise red and angry on his cheek. The three other (bigger) third years – or maybe they were fourth years, Tony could never tell the underclassmen apart – were standing there, wands at the ready.

Someone else was in the alley, too. He had beaten Tony and Pepper there.

" _Finite incantatem_."

Steve lowered his wand and caught the third year as he fell out of the air. He set him back down on the ground. Steve's back was to Pepper and Tony, so they couldn't see his face, but as he straightened up, something about the set of his shoulders radiated anger. His voice was flat and tight when he spoke again.

"I really suggest you all get out of here, now. And _you three_ ," Steve raised his voice only slightly but it was somehow terrifying, even to Tony, "will hear from the Heads of your Houses when you get back to school. Get out."

The underclassmen – even the bullied kids – _sprinted_ out of the alley, running away from Steve, tripping over themselves to do so.

"Damn, that was hot," Tony said in a mutter to Pepper, but when he looked to his side, he found that Pepper was gone. "Oh, you scheming little witch—"

"Tony?" Steve looked surprised to see Tony there.

"Um, hey. Good, you know, rescue-and-intimidation there." Tony gestured vaguely. "It looked like you had it under control, or I would've backed you up."

Steve's smile was rueful, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue wool coat. His demeanor was completely different from what it was ten seconds ago. There was a lot more to him than appearances would lead anyone to believe. "Yeah, probably went a little too far, right?"

"What are you talking about? If it were me, those kids would've been hexed until next Tuesday, so it's probably better that you got to them first." Tony bumped his shoulder against Steve's. "I'll buy you a butterbeer, c'mon."

With a sigh, Steve said, as if confessing some big secret, "I really hate bullies."

"No one's disagreeing with you on that front, Steve," said Tony. He rubbed his hands together briskly as the exited the alley and turned back on High Street.

Steve glanced at him. "Are you cold?"

"This is what I get from dressing based on the amount of sunshine stabbing me in the eyes in the morning. Freaking Scottish weather—" Tony swallowed the remainder of the sentence when Steve unwound the Gryffindor scarf he wore and wrapped it around Tony's neck.

"There," Steve said. The act of looping the scarf around had brought them close together, nearly chest-to-chest. Steve was giving him a funny look, partly amused and partly… something else. "Okay, this might be really strange of me to say, but red and gold are really your colors."

Tony wasn't sure how to take that. "If you're trying to convert me, Rogers, it'll never work. I have too many self-preservation instincts to be a Gryffindor."

"Liar," Steve said with a smile, and what was that supposed to mean? "Anyway, I'm just saying it looks good on you."

It would have been the perfect time to seal the deal and try to kiss him, but that was precisely when Clint and Thor literally raced past them, running, nearly knocking Tony over. Clint called over his shoulder, "C'mon, kids, I'm buying the first round!"

Tony growled and Steve laughed. He tugged on Tony's arm. "C'mon, let's get out of the cold."

 

***

 

Darcy jumped up out of her seat with a triumphant yell and pointed at Thor, declaring, "Hah! Totally whooped your butt. Drink, Odinson!"

"It's a pleasure to raise my glass to the rightful victor," said Thor, doing so and tossing back his shot of firewhiskey. He blinked. "This is a wondrous drink, Natasha Romanov. It warms all over."

It had all started off pretty innocently. They had taken up two of the tables in the back of The Three Broomsticks, and were trading snacks and butterbeers back and forth, playing Exploding Snap and chess. But then it all pretty much went to hell when Natasha reached into the inner pockets of her coat and produced an unopened bottle of Ogden's Old, sloshing the contents around enticingly.

Or, Tony thinks it went to hell. Things started to get a little fuzzy after the third game of Sickles. 

"Pep, you're great," said Tony, listing to his side and landing on Pepper's shoulder.

"I know." Pepper smiled and flicked the ends of the scarf around Tony's neck. "So. What's the story with this new sartorial choice?"

"No story. No lurid details to share. It's depressing." Tony rolled his head and peered up at Pepper's face. "So depressing."

"Oh, geez, it's seven already?" Steve was looking at the grandfather clock on the opposite side of the pub. "I've gotta go and make sure the third years get back to school alright."

Clint blinked at Steve blearily, straw hanging from his mouth. "Why do you have to do that?"

"Steve Rogers was made a Gryffindor prefect!" Thor was now drinking straight out of the firewhiskey bottle. He had his arm around Loki's shoulders, and Loki was glaring at him halfheartedly, like he wasn't sure if he should be irritated or not. "He has shown great heart and valor."

"Hey," said Pepper, and abruptly Tony felt the world whirling past as Pepper shoved him out of his seat and into Steve's arms, "take another charge. He's mentally thirteen anyway."

"I represent that remark. And I'm completely fine; I don't need a babysitter." To prove his point, Tony pushed himself away from Steve (why, why was this his _life_ ) and stood on his own two feet, completely upright and not swaying around at all.

"Don't be an idiot, Stark," Natasha kicked him lightly in the shin. She was doing that thing with her eyebrow, trying to communicate a message with him, but that only ever worked between her and Clint, because Tony had no clue what she was trying to say. "Go."

"It'd be good to have someone to walk back with, if you want to come?" Steve said.

Tony sighed. "Like you have to even ask."

 

***

 

Steve walked with Tony back to the castle, alternately carrying on a conversation with Tony and running off to herd the third years and to make sure they didn't get lost or hit their heads against a rock or something. So they didn't end up alone until now, with Steve walking Tony back to his room like they were in a movie from the 1950s.

"You're okay from here?" Steve asked. They had come to a stop at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led up to the Ravenclaw common room door.

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "I've been fine since I stood up, but no one seems to believe me." He peered at Steve. "And how come you're stone-cold sober, may I ask?"

"I, uh, was pouring my firewhiskey into the Knocknot Shrub behind my chair." At Tony's incredulous look, Steve said defensively, "We're underage!"

"Oh god, you actually are the perfect model citizen, aren't you? You sure someone didn't conjure you up?"

Steve seemed disturbed by this statement. "I'm not perfect, I don't know why people keep saying that."

"It's probably those rugged good looks." Tony grinned when this seemed to make Steve even more uncomfortable; he started fidgeting with the buttons of his coat. Seeing that made Tony feel a little reckless, gave him a sudden burst of decisiveness, and he declared, "You know, you're right. You're not perfect. I mean, you're such a bad influence, what with all that PDA."

Steve stopped fidgeting with his buttons and stared at Tony. "That what?"

"I was hoping you'd say that." Tony slid a hand up to cup Steve's jaw and drew him into a kiss. He just meant to kiss him a little bit, nothing too crazy, but Steve wasn't pulling away, _he wasn't pulling away_ , in fact he was wrapping an arm around Tony's waist and pulling him in tighter, their chests and stomachs pressing together, which was driving Tony to have insanely inappropriate thoughts. Tony hmm-ed his pleasure and Steve stuttered an unsteady groan into Tony's mouth.

Tony broke away, needing to breathe, and he tugged on the collar of Steve's coat. "C'mon, Mr. Perfect."

"Wha?" Steve seemed dazed, and Tony mentally patted himself on the back for that. Then Steve apparently processed what Tony was saying and he jerked back, going red at the tips of his ears. "I can't – that's your House dormi – I can't go in there!"

"Our password is a riddle. Anyone with half a brain can get in here. Which is why I never keep any of my valuables at school."

"I don't, I mean, everyone will hear—"

"What? No, it'll be fine. Draw the bed curtains, cast a _Muffliato_ , no one will know the difference, even if you're loud. Are you loud? I bet I could get you to— Wow, it's really distracting when you blush like that. You're ridiculously attractive, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Tony…" Blush was probably an understatement; Steve's face was practically scarlet.

Tony sighed theatrically. "Still no, huh? Fine, fine." Tony began unwinding the scarf around his neck. "Here, you should take—"

Steve's hand on his arm stopped him. "No, keep it. I have more." Steve took the ends of the scarf and wrapped them back up. He smiled at Tony, leaning in again. "Like I said, it suits you."

In contrast to the blush on his face, Steve kissed Tony with gentle surety, deep and… inevitable, his broad hands cupping Tony's shoulders, and Tony had to grab the railing behind him for support because he was feeling a little dizzy.

"Goodnight," Steve murmured, and he left before Tony could even remember how to form real words.

After a moment, Tony straightened himself up. He stared down at the Gryffindor scarf around his neck.

"Salazar's balls," Tony muttered. He climbed up the stairs to the Ravenclaw door.

The bronze eagle knocker opened its beak upon his approach. "What is often lost and often sought, ever-lasting and never bought, present in truth and never in lies, betters the soul and opens the eyes?"

"Oh hell no." Tony glared at the knocker and wondered if it had planned this. No, not possible. Was it? "I refuse to answer that. Give me another one."

The bronze eagle was completely inanimate once again. Tony stared at it for a full minute, but there wasn't even a flicker of a feather.

"Alright, it's love!" Tony snapped. "The answer is love. Happy?"

"Correct," said the eagle. The door began swinging open, and it might've been a trick of his eyes, but Tony could swear the damn thing smirked at him.

 

***

 

Tony was studying in the library the next evening – alright, he was pretending to study in the library when he was really pilfering books from the forbidden section to try to figure out goblin metalworking magic. Natasha and Clint were sitting across from him, working on their Charms homework.

Natasha looked up from her parchment and narrowed her eyes. "You look happy."

"I worry that that emotion arouses such deep suspicion in you." Tony tried to steal the packet of Bertie Bott's from Natasha's open knapsack and only narrowly avoided being stabbed in the hand with Natasha's quill.

Clint grabbed the candy instead. He popped a few of the jelly beans into his mouth and grinned, saying, "Five galleons says Tony got a slice of Gryffindor pie."

"Why do you let _him_ have your candy?" Tony complained. Natasha just glared at Tony and opened her textbook, pointedly ignoring him. To Clint, Tony added, "And that's totally crass. Anyway, it was more like a piece of Gryffindor cookie. A small piece."

"Why are you grinning then?" Clint asked, eyebrow raised.

"Hey, what's going on?" Steve plopped a stack of textbooks onto the table and sat down next to Tony.

Clint opened his mouth and Tony slapped a hand over it before he could say anything. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing. So, Potions homework, huh? I bet that's fascinating."

Just then, Jane ran up to them, nearly colliding with a bunch of Slytherin first years before reaching the group. Tony had a bad feeling before she even spoke, and a cold, hard lump of dread began to form in his stomach as she panted, breathless, "Bruce—he's—"

"What happened?"

"I don't know! I thought he took the potion, but I can't find him anywhere—"

"Shit." Tony got up, and he didn't need to look to know everyone was following on his heels as he left the library. "Okay, okay, this is not a problem," said Tony, and he wasn't sure who he was reassuring. Probably himself.

They reached the castle courtyard, and the night was freezing cold and clear. Tony looked up at the sky. "The moon just rose, so he couldn't have gotten far."

The moon also looked a little weird tonight, but Tony couldn't put his finger on why.

"What's going on? What do you mean, the moon—" Steve looked at all of them. "So it's true? Bruce is—"

"Our friend," said Tony firmly. "And occasionally a hairy wolf monster, yes. Is the coast clear, Natasha?"

Natasha nodded, although she wasn't looking at Tony, her eyes darting around to examine the courtyard's perimeter. "Affirmative."

Clint was already changing. Downy brown feathers were sprouting out all over his skin in a highly creepy manner.

"Ugh, I hate this part," Tony muttered.

Changing into animal form always seemed a little bit undignified to Tony. Plus, the order of the changes was never quite the same each time, and often made no sense. This time, the change seemed to start with his limbs – his arms were lengthening, his legs were shortening and there was a really disturbing sensation as his knees reversed direction.

If Steve stared any harder, his eyes would fall out. "You're both Animagi?"

"Well, Clint was born as one," said Tony. Clint had already completed his change, and a red-tailed hawk hopped out of the pile of Clint's clothes and alighted onto Natasha's shoulder. Black fur, the same color of Tony's hair, rippled out of Tony's skin. "Me, I just did this to pick up girls."

Jane rolled her eyes. "During our second year, Tony made himself an Animagus to help Bruce out. Bruce is better if he has someone to run with."

"Run…?" Steve stared at Tony. "You're a panther."

Tony would've liked to make a joke or something, to ease the concerned look on Steve's face, but he now lacked the right vocal cords to do so. He shrugged out of the remainder of his clothing, and went up to Steve, pushing his head into the palm of Steve's hand. Huh, Steve smelled pretty awesome.

Steve petted him, rubbing behind Tony's ears, and a pleased rumble started up in Tony's throat, entirely involuntarily. "This is bizarre," said Steve, laughing a little.

The peace of the still night was broken by an agonized howl in the distance, coming from the forest, and if Tony were human, the sound would've made goosebumps break out all over his skin. As a panther, he just pricked up his ears and turned his head towards the sound.

Clint let out a screech and took flight, towards the forest. Tony bounded after him, following the sound of the howling wolf in the night.

 

***

 

Something was wrong.

Bruce was pretty unreasonable in wolf form, indiscriminately attacking anything that came near him. Over time, he had gotten used to Tony and Clint, and he didn't attack them at all anymore. It wasn't as if he was particularly friendly, even then, but he treated them with indifference, letting them run with him and hunt with him. They could normally direct Bruce's violent tendencies to some poor deer or rabbit before ushering Bruce through the passage in the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack.

But tonight, it was like Bruce didn't know them at all.

Tony had followed Clint into the forest, and when they finally found Bruce, he had whipped around and snarled at Tony, teeth bared, as if he didn't recognize him. In fact, Tony had a very vivid flashback to when they had first tried this, and Bruce had basically tried to maul him to death.

Dogs and cats didn't get along, after all. And whereas Bruce was basically a giant wild dog, Tony was a giant wild cat.

Tony's vision as a panther wasn't quite the same as when he was a human, so colors and shapes seemed slightly different, but it seemed to him like Bruce's eyes had a feral red glint to them. When Tony lifted his head and looked up at the moon, he realized why it hadn't looked right to him before. It had that same faint red tint, reflected in Bruce's eyes.

Tony tried to back away, but Bruce took that opportunity to leap, and Tony snarled, instinctively swiping forward with his paws and smacking Bruce in the muzzle.

Clint screeched and dove between them, breaking them apart, a clear message that said, _stop fighting_ , but Bruce wasn't really in the mood to listen.

Bruce growled and attacked again, biting, and his jaw locked down on Tony's shoulder, dangerously close to his neck, and Tony roared at the flare of pain and rolled, pushing at Bruce with his paws, trying to break away.

_Something_ bolted through the air then, snarling, and attacked Bruce, surprising him into releasing Tony. It was a giant — _giant_ — dog, a retriever, with sleek golden hair the exact same color as—

Oh no way. No way in hell.

The golden retriever and Bruce were now locked in a fight, growling and snapping at each other. But then something totally bizarre happened. After a few moments of fighting, the dog just stopped. It stopped fighting, letting Bruce bite down onto its neck. Bruce growled for a second, but held still, as if unsure what to do with this sudden lack of effort.

They all watched, tense, as Bruce seemed to relax incrementally and finally released the golden retriever. Then, completely out of the blue, Bruce _licked the wound_ , and the dog barked approval, and then they were rolling around again, but in a friendly way, nipping at each other affectionately.

Well, if that wasn't Steve, Tony would eat his metaphorical hat. Only Steve Rogers could make a goddamn werewolf act like an overgrown puppy.

Tony looked up and found Clint, who was perched in a nearby tree. Tony was pretty sure that if Clint were capable of doing so, he'd be rolling his eyes.

 

***

 

Tony woke up human, blinking blearily at the shards of sunlight stabbing through the broken slats of the Shrieking Shack's roof. His shoulder was a mottled mess of barely-healed bite wounds and bruises, the last remnants of the fight with Bruce. Tony frowned at it, wondering if he should risk some wandless magic to try to heal it.

"Well, that went reasonably well," Tony announced to the world in general.

"A morning-after where no one has any missing limbs is a win in my book." Clint was sitting in a crouch on one of the windowsills, watching the sun come up. He was also completely naked.

"Clint, c'mon, be a little more discreet." Tony held up a hand to block his view. "I could go blind."

Bruce sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. Steve's head popped up out of the mess of random broken lumber and blankets in one corner of the room.

"Steve?" Bruce rubbed his eyes a little more, this time in disbelief. "What're you doing here?"

"Hey, Bruce." Steve yawned. "Glad to see you're okay."

"Wha—how did you—?"

At the question, Steve shifted into a dog. He jumped up and bounded over to Bruce, tail wagging, cheerful. Bruce petted him on the head wonderingly for a moment before Steve broke away and changed back to human form. "Natasha and Loki helped to turn me into an Animagus." He winced and rolled his shoulders. "Still getting used to it, though."

Bruce was frowning a little. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did." Steve said this as if becoming an Animagus was the only possible choice he had. "You're my friend. You all are."

"This may be a good time to tell Steve about our cardinal rule of no heartfelt moments while we're all naked," said Clint.

"Hey, I'm always down for an orgy if you are," said Tony, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms behind his head.

The mix of reactions to that statement was pretty hilarious: Clint made a noise of disgust, Bruce looked confused, and Steve jerked his gaze to an empty corner of the room as if only just realizing everyone around him was naked.

Tony caught Bruce staring at his injured shoulder – or, Bruce's equivalent of staring, which was sort of an averted gaze that was somehow direct and indirect at the same time. "Hey." Tony snapped his fingers at Bruce. "Hey, stop that, don't even think about it. I'm fine. Actually, it's an optical illusion; my shoulder isn't even really injured."

"Well. Regardless, I appreciate what you guys all did for me. Do for me." Bruce was trying to smile, and while Tony preferred Bruce's actual smile, this was still a good sign.

"Don't mention it," said Steve, clapping a hand on Bruce's back.

Clint groaned. "Cardinal rule!"

 

***

 

As they emerged from the Whomping Willow, into the cold, overcast morning, they were greeted by the sight of Darcy, Natasha, and Pepper, waiting a little ways away, wearing their school cloaks.

"Damn." Darcy whistled. "I have to admit, this is always my favorite part."

Pepper elbowed her. "Darcy."

"Don't tell me you don't agree. I mean, c'mon, look at them. Oh, oh fine." Darcy produced a bundle of clothes from underneath her cloak. "Here you go, Bruce. Your wand is in there, too."

Natasha gave Clint and Steve their clothes and wands, and Pepper was wearing an amused smile as she gave Tony his. Tony hurriedly hopped into his shorts and jeans – it was _freezing_ this morning – while Pepper produced her wand and healed his shoulder.

"Thanks." Tony tugged on his sweater and slipped his wand into the pocket of his jeans. "And you didn't laugh this time, I appreciate that."

"I was stunned into silence by the sight of Steve, what can I say." Pepper smiled innocently when Tony gave her an exaggerated glare.

Tony noticed something on the back of Steve's neck just as he was pulling on his sweatshirt. "Hey—" Tony went up to him and yanked the collar down, exposing the furious red bite wound on the back of Steve's neck. "What is this?"

Steve pushed Tony's hand away. "It's nothing, just a scratch."

"'Tis only a flesh wound!'" When Steve gave Tony a blank look, Tony said, "Monty Python? No? I keep forgetting you missed seven decades." Tony pulled out his wand. "Hold still. Bruce is actually better at this kind of stuff, but let me see if I can…" With a mutter of " _Episkey_ ," the wound healed over and disappeared.

"Thanks." Steve turned, touching the back of his neck and smiling.

Tony smirked. "Say that again, but say it prettier."

Steve leaned in, still smiling, and murmured, "Thank you," before pressing a kiss to Tony's mouth.

"Ugh, I'm going to lose my breakfast. And I haven't even eaten it yet," said Loki's voice.

They broke apart to see the rest of their friends approaching. Tony threw a little mean smile towards Loki, who gave him a regal nod and a little salute.

"It is good to see you whole, friends." Thor looped one arm around Natasha's neck and the other around Clint's, drawing them all together. "And it is a beautiful morning! Let us break bread together."

On their walk back to the castle grounds, thick, lazy flakes of snow began drifting down around them. At first, it was only a few snowflakes here and there, but within moments, the air seemed to be full of swirling snow.

Tony was talking with Bruce and it took him a second to notice Steve was no longer on his other side. He turned back and found Steve had stopped walking. Instead, he was staring up at the snow. 

As Tony came up to him, Steve started talking, but he didn't take his eyes off the sky. "It's weird, I didn't notice the time passing when I was gone – one second I was there, and then I was here – but now that I'm out in the world, I realize how my old life was an awful long time ago." Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "It feels like I haven't seen snow in a long time."

Not quite sure what to say to this, Tony just bumped their shoulders together, and asked, "Is it as nice as you remember it?"

Steve looked at him then, and he looked up ahead at their friends, and smiled. "Better."

~fin~


End file.
